Strangest Sensation
by AfewSentencesShortOfaParagraph
Summary: AU: She's beautiful and interesting; a free spirit who doesn't believe in love. He's a hopeless optimist with a chip on his shoulder who decides to prove her wrong. But Maya Matlin is stubborn, and perhaps she'll only end up destroying Zig Novak. He's willing to take the risk...
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Degrassi; sad truth is sad.**

**This is very AU and very much me wallowing over Zaya not being canon. **

It was like clockwork: every Monday, Wednesday and Friday the petite girl with the endearingly unruly blonde hair walked into the campus café and went directly for the coffee at exactly 12:16. And she was always singing under her breath; one ear bud lost in that hair, one dangling toward her waist.

It was two months into classes, and I still hadn't gained the courage to say anything to her.

"You're staring again," Imogen Moreno accused, sneaking up behind me and making me jump. "Poor Ziggy-puss; too scared to even find out the girl's name." She was flashing me that annoyingly smug smirk. Imogen was a strange girl, but she was horridly observant. When she was right, you never heard the end of it.

"Don't you have some Gatorade to stock?" I replied as cheekily as I could manage, fiddling with some of the keys on the register. Imogen and I had gone to the same high school, but we had only become close when I signed up for a theater class; the one she happened to be the TA for. I had just been relieved to see a familiar face, and apparently Imogen didn't have many close friends. We instantly bonded. She was the one who had gotten me the job at the best location on campus…and she never let me forget it.

"I could get you fired," she pouted.

"That's the fifth time you've said that to me today. If you wanted to fire me, you would have already."

"Don't tempt me," she purred. Then, in an even lower voice, Imogen whispered in my ear, "You could just talk to her, you know."

"I could also take a running jump off a cliff, but that would make me look just about as stupid," I pointed out, scowling. My eyes were still fixed on the girl as she mulled over some kind of granola bar.

"Whatever," Imogen sing-songed. "Don't forget; tonight at seven The Modes are playing at The Skeller. Be there or be a hunk of smelly cheese."

"I already told you I was going," I rolled my eyes, tugging on one of Imogen's pigtails before she could dance out of reach. Her shift had just ended, so she flipped me the bird as she sashayed out from behind the counter. I was just pulling out my Algebra homework, ready to actually be productive without Imogen as a constant distraction, when the girl walked up to the counter, setting down her coffee and granola bar. "H-hello," I stammered nervously, ringing her up.

"I've heard a lot of buzz about them…you think they're worth checking out?" the girl asked earnestly, suddenly. No prelude at all…she was just talking to me like we had been carrying a conversation the entire time.

She just stared at me with her striking teal colored eyes, waiting for a response.

"I—what?"

The girl had a tinkling laugh, and she shook her head self-derisively. "Sorry, I totally overheard your conversation with pigtails. The Modes; I hear a lot of people obsessing over them around here. I was pondering the show; are they any good?"

I laughed. There was something different, unique about this girl, but I was still too stunned that she was talking to me that my brain couldn't come up with some witty retort. "Depends, uh, on what kind of music you like," I pointed out lamely.

"I like all kinds," she smiled in a challenging sort of way.

"Well, they have a techno, power-poppy kind of sound."

"And you like that?" she asked, slipping the ear bud out of her ear and winding the wire around her hand.

"As far as the local music scene goes…they're not bad," I shrugged. "Uh, that'll be $6.38, by the way."

She handed me her meal plan card, and I glanced at the name: Maya Matlin. "And why should I trust your opinion…," she trailed off, squinting at the name tag I had on while pocketing her wallet. "Zig?"

She seemed to have some questions regarding my name, but I was too busy scowling at her. "Well, _Maya_," I emphasized, "You're the one who asked me. If you want to know for sure, I suggest going to their show."

She didn't even bat an eye when I used her name. Instead, she smiled knowingly, grabbing her coffee. "Okay. I'll see you there, then."

I blinked a couple times, not sure what had happened, exactly. "Super," I managed as she walked away, a smile still on her lips.

Imogen was going to go nuts when I told her what happened.

XXX

Later, I was still puzzling over my Algebra problems when a rhythmic knock sounded through my tiny dorm room. With a groan, I threw my pencil down, and pushed away from my desk. There was only one person in the world that knocked like that, but I paused before opening the door. "Stripper gram?" I guessed jokingly.

"Zigmund," Imogen whined impatiently.

"Yes?" I teased, cracking the door just a tad. Imogen had changed out of her work polo and was sporting an oversized kitten sweater. I often wondered to myself how I could have ever missed her in the couple years that we attended Degrassi together.

She lowered her voice to a fearful whisper. "Is _he _here?"

Imogen had a middle-school-worthy crush on my roommate: an environmental science major in his second year named Jake Martin. Though the girl harassed me endlessly for my inability to talk to Maya (though she wouldn't be able to hold that against me for long; ha!) the usually verbose Imogen turned to unintelligible mess around my roommate.

I didn't have the heart to mock her for it on the off chance that the amount of nervous energy in her body caused her to self-destruct.

"He has some exam coming up, so he's at the library studying," I promised.

She heaved a sigh of relief and pushed herself into my room, plopping down on the ratty, corduroy chair that inhabited the free space in the dorm. "My room got boring," she explained her existence before I could ask.

"Well, I'm doing homework, so I can't imagine mine is going to be much better," I smirked at Imogen, sitting down at my desk once again, twirling the pencil in my hand.

"We should be getting psyched for the show, Zig. Perhaps streaking through that new green space they just wasted our money on," Imogen suggested with an alarmingly straight face.

"Or…," I raised my eyebrows at her, "You could explain asymptotes to me while my brain turns to flubber; whoo!"

Imogen's face contorted into a look of adorable, frightened concern. "I'm a musical theater major," she gulped.

"Right, compromise," I sighed, closing my algebra book. "Guess who isn't so crippling shy after all?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in thought. "It can't be _you_…but for the sake of this conversation, I can't think of anyone else that we would be talking about."

I grabbed the novel I was supposed to read for College Composition, and whipped it at Imogen. She blocked her face just in time, giggling. "I surrender! Why aren't you crippled anymore, Zig Novak?"

"I talked to her, Imo. Her name is Maya; she's going to come to the show tonight."

Imogen's mouth dropped in shock. "Wait, you're not yanking my appendages here? You really exchanged more than a couple words with her?"

I narrowed my eyes at her disbelief. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

"Yes," Imogen responded promptly. "I would be less surprised if you agreed to streak with me." I opened my mouth to snap back at her, but she soldiered on. "Color me Tickle Me Pink, though. My little baby's all grown up!"

"Get out," I pointed at the door.

"No, no. If Miss Maya is going to be at the show, then I showed up just in time!"

"For what?" I was almost scared to ask.

"Well we need to make you presentable, don't we?"

"What are the chances of me talking you out of messing with my hair and picking out my outfit?

"Between zero and one percent," Imogen smiled sweetly at me.

"You know I'm not your Barbie doll, right? Or gay?"

"Yes, Zig; that's why I have a fully functioning imagination…to make things more fun for me!"

I sighed, rolling my eyes toward my closet. "Fine, do your worst. I get finally veto power, though."

"Alright," Imogen agreed happily, and I couldn't suppress my smirk. She was a strange one, Imogen Moreno, but she was great and I loved making her happy.

XXX

"I look ridiculous; I was supposed to have veto power," I whispered angrily, tugging at the stupid jacket Imogen had forced me into.

"But the green is so pretty with your eyes," Imogen chastised, smoothing the wrinkles out of my favorite t-shirt; it had a big Yoshi plastered over the chest.

"And my hair feels heavy; how much gel did you use, exactly?"

"Enough," she answered ominously, tugging me to a table off to the side of the venue. "Believe me, you look kick-ass. Now just relax and enjoy, dammit!"

I laughed at Imogen's mood swing, settling into the sticky, wobbly chair and grabbing the menu from between the salt, pepper and napkin dispenser. "Do you want anything?"

"Maybe later," she waved me off, turning her attention to where The Modes were setting up, getting ready for their sound check.

I read over the list of items that I had just about memorized: Imogen and I went to The Skeller every Friday night. I wasn't sure why I bothered to read the menu. I always got fries and a root beer anyway.

About halfway through my basket, two songs into the set and in desperate need for a refill on my drink, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. "You've proved yourself trustworthy, Mr. Zig!" A voice shouted in my ear over the music and every muscle in my body tensed up in a good way.

"I take it you like them?" I nodded toward the stage before turning to find Maya standing behind me dressed in leggings and an edgy sweater-dress-type-thing. I worked hard to keep my jaw from hitting the ground.

"They're not all that bad," she shrugged, still working to be heard over the music. "But I was referring to the way you described their sound. It was accurate," she smiled coyly at me, slipping into the seat beside me, waving briefly at Imogen. "Hello, pigtails," she called.

Without missing a beat, Imogen responded, "Hiya, puffball." She winked at me while I choked on my root beer. Maya merely laughed, taking it all in stride.

"I guess that's fair," she patted at her head before dropping her hands to the table and drumming along to the rhythm. I tried to turn my attention back to the band, but I was very much aware that the cute, sexy girl I had been eying since week one of school was sitting a foot away from me. My concentration dwindled to nothing.

After another song—or maybe it was two—the lead singer, Craig Manning, announced that they were taking an intermission.

"I'm going to get some beer," Imogen stood up abruptly, grabbing my empty glass. "I'll be back in a bit," she smiled knowingly at me.

"So," I drawled, turning all my attention to Maya, "I'm not sure I get it…do you or don't you like them?"

"I've heard better, I've heard worse," Maya shrugged.

"You're indecisive," I decided, thinking back to her intense mulling over the granola bar.

Maya gasped playfully. "You don't know me, Café Boy!"

"I'd like to, though," I admitted honestly, slipping a fry into my mouth.

Maya regarded me for a few moments, her head cocked to the side with the weight of her thoughts. Suddenly, she was out of her seat and she took a couple steps toward the door. When I didn't get up to follow her immediately, Maya turned around and raised an eyebrow at me. "Well, come on, then."

I paused for a second, wondering if I should tell Imogen I was leaving. I wondered if it was weird to follow a complete stranger. I wondered if it was all just a cruel joke, and if I should stick to my comfort zone…

But I had devoted too much thought to Maya Matlin to pass up the golden opportunity. It might have been weird, a little unorthodox. But she was pretty and so, so interesting.

So I walked out the door of The Skeller with Maya; into the arms of an adventure.

**To be continued, duh, duh, duh!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure you're not just trying to get me killed?" I checked, jumping as another set of headlights blinded me. Maya was leading me over a steep hill, looking back at me only to roll her eyes.

"Stop you're whining. You're allowed to turn around whenever you want, but the climb is totally worth it."

I exhaled heavily, more than a little embarrassed that she seemed hardly winded while each breath I took felt like my lungs were lifting a forty pound dumbbell. I was also a little thrown off by her cold indifference—the tone in her voice made it painfully clear that she really couldn't care less if I turned around.

We had left The Skeller, like, forty-five minutes ago, and I wasn't even sure if the hurried text I had sent Imogen had been delivered. It didn't take long for Maya to lead me somewhere my crappy cell service couldn't cover. I was sweating, out of breath and more than a little disoriented. I could see the muted lights of the university from my position above the rest of the world. A little further away, I could also see the brilliant lights of Toronto, burning bright in the night.

But I still had no idea where I was, exactly. More importantly, I had no idea how I didn't know such a place even existed. I mean, the hill was freakin' massive.

A few minutes later, I followed Maya past the concrete road, watching the paths turn to dirt and gravel. Even further on, Maya laughed at the worried look on my face as she pulled me into the dark woods.

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Zig. I've walked this at least a million times. I'll protect you from all the heinous tree roots."

"Brat," I muttered under my breath, unable to come up with a better, snarkier comeback with my lungs still working to push air through my system. I mean, it wasn't just me—this was totally insane, and anyone in my position would have probably turned around at the bottom of the hill.

I just happened to be equal parts sucker and interested in Maya. After all, I had waited a while for this opportunity with her. There was no turning back for me…I had to know more about her.

Which is why I followed blindly behind her petite frame, trying not to imagine what might be in the dense woods. At least Maya seemed to know her way around.

I was expecting her to lead me a cave or some magical alternate dimension or something with all the buildup…and that might have been why I was a little disappointed when she stopped abruptly in front of a thick tree and turned to me. "Are you ready to have your mind blown?" she challenged, a smirk evident in her voice.

I narrowed my eyes, unimpressed, but I doubt she could make out my features that well. "A tree? What, are we visiting the Keebler elves?" I asked.

"Oh, shut up. You'll see," Maya laughed at me, before—continuing to throw curve balls my way—starting to climb the tree. Her actions were made only more impressive by the fact that she was in a sweater dress, but still managed to make it look graceful.

"Oh, yeah, sure, we're just going to climb a tree in pitch blackness. Cool, that's not weird at all."

"You're still welcome to leave," Maya's voice drifted down to me, but she sounded confident in the fact that I wouldn't.

Which made me twice the fool as I found the lowest branch and hoisted myself up. In the light, the climb would have been impossibly easy—all the branches were thick and sturdy and there wasn't much space between levels. In the darkness, though, it was a bit of a challenge. I bumped my head more than a few times, and had a series of scratches on my hand before I reached Maya. She was sitting cross-legged and leaning against something very solid, a lantern suddenly in her hand.

"Welcome," Maya smiled brightly, the shadows cast by her lantern making me feel vaguely like spiders were crawling on my skin. She looked kind of like she was glowing, though—she had to be one of the prettiest girls alive. "Come on inside," Maya's giggle pulled me out of my thought as she disappeared again.

It wasn't until that moment that I took my time to really look at where I was. A tree house. We were here for a tree house.

Even more curious than ever, I took care swinging myself over to the branch by the entrance. The first thing I noticed when I crawled inside was how high up we were. There was a large window cut out of the wall opposite the entrance, and the entire city of Toronto was spread out in front of my, other branches of other trees creating a frame for the bright lights. It almost looked like the city was on fire…and I was on top of the world, just watching it burn. "Whoa," I whispered.

"Right?" Maya chimed in, reminding me that she was there. I glanced over to find her staring longingly out at the view. And then I started to notice other things, too. Like how spacious the tree house really was, the lantern Maya had placed in the middle of the room casting more ominous shadows. There were several piles of books in one corner, a flashlight balanced on top of a precarious stack. A hand full of extra batteries were scattered on the floor. A sea of bean bag chairs was also stuffed into the corner perpendicular to the books. There was one of those portable speaker systems that you can plug MP3 players into with the need for electricity.

Lastly, though I was sure there was much more to see in the daylight, I noticed a tiny shelf that had a large jar of pretzels and a couple jars of Nutella. "Nice snack choices…do you, like, live here or something?"

"Are you an idiot?" Maya countered good-naturedly. "Or course not. I just really like it here."

"How did you find it?" I asked, turning back to stare in awe at the view.

"That is privileged information," Maya shrugged, crawling over to a bean bag chair and pulling it away from the corner before settling in.

"I thought you invited me here because I wanted to get to know you—isn't talking about privileged information kind of the point of that?"

"Not yet," Maya pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "You haven't proved your trustworthy yet, Mr. Zig. You have to put in the time before you get my secrets. You have to earn them."

The way she spoke—her voice brittle and a little defensive—made me think that she had been hurt before. That other people had ditched her. Fine, I was up for proving myself.

"I'm willing to put in the time…does that mean we're friends?" I asked hopefully, a goofy smile on my face.

"As if it were that easy to just be friends with someone," Maya scoffed, but I noticed she didn't just say no. I could make this work.

"Sometimes it is," I insisted. "Imogen and I went to high school together, but never said a word to each other. Then I was in a class she was helping out with, and our high school was the only thing we had in common at the time…that's all we needed though. We were friends instantly, and now I love the girl to death. As it turns out, we have loads in common. All it takes is one thing, you know? One shared thing."

"We don't have anything shared, though," Maya pointed out cynically, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Oh no? We're both freshman at TU. We both like music and coffee…you brought me here. We have loads in common!"

Maya rolled her eyes, but giggled in spite of herself. "Fine, we're friends."

"Awesome," I concurred, and slid over to where Maya was perched to lean against the wall, facing her. "Can I ask you some questions, then?"

"Depends on the question," Maya's guard was back up again.

"Nothing too deep, just, like, twenty questions or something," I requested.

"Fine, but I get to do the same to you…and if the questions too personal, I'm not answering."

I help up my hands in surrender. "Sounds perfectly reasonable," I smiled brightly at her. "Okay, first question…," I paused dramatically before asking, "What do you really think of the Modes?"

It worked, Maya cracked up, tipping her head back and letting her tinkling laugh fill the crisp, night air. "Honestly, I thought they were okay…I'd listen again."

"Cool, I'll make you a CD," I nodded. "Alright, take two…what's your favorite color," I continued with mock seriousness.

"Maya giggled again. "I like purple, I guess."

I nodded, committing it to memory. I might need the information someday…

We spent a solid three hours in the tree house, learning little details about each other. I knew that Maya's favorite food was grilled salmon, her favorite author was John Green, but her favorite book was the fifth Harry Potter. She loved young adult literature, played the piano and flute but loved the cello more than anything and was a double major in music education and English.

She now knew that in the fifth grade I had a bad experience with milk and couldn't look at it without turning green, that my favorite movies were the comically bad, and that I liked to sing and played the guitar.

It was silly, because we really were only learning surface details, but I felt an intense connection to Maya—like I had never known anyone better. There was something different about the way she was in-your-face confident with how quirky she was, but how insecure she was about letting people in. She was intelligent, but laughed loudly at my stupid sense of humor. I liked her…a lot. But now the attraction was more than just physical. Maya Matlin wasn't just some girl who got coffee three times a week and was nice to look at.

That night she came alive for me, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that she wasn't the kind of girl I typically dated. She was much, much better.

I tried to quietly sneak back into my dorm around 2 in the morning, afraid that I'd wake up Jake. Instead, I creeped in to find Imogen laying in my bed reading and Jake's bed empty. "How did you even get in here?" I asked, the goofy, boyish smile on my face left by Maya still burning strong.

"Jake let me in," Imogen sat up, blushing when she said his name. Poor girl.

"Yeah, did you actually talk to him?" I asked, patting her on the head. She swatted me away.

"Kind of…I had to! I was worried about you, and I only just got your text, like, thirty minutes ago, Mister!

"Sorry about that, I didn't have much service. But, God, Imogen, my night was amazing. _She's_ amazing!"

"So did you make out with her and get it out of your system?" Imogen asked, a low blow indeed. But I could see she was upset that I had ditched her so I tried to keep my hurt scowl off my face.

"No, I did not," I answered formally, turning away to slip off my jacket and change into pajama pants.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to turn grumpy cat on you," Imogen's voice was suddenly in my ear and she was squeezing my waist. "I know that was a mistake and you're not like that…and I know you wouldn't have left me tonight if the reason wasn't for something really, Empire State Building huge."

"It's fine, I'm really sorry for ditching you," I turned to return her hug and everything was resolved, just like that. "So where is Jake, anyway?"

Imogen's blush returned and she shrugged, picking up her book from the bed. "He went out to a party, so he's probably hooking up with some girl right now or something." I squeezed her shoulder sympathetically, not really able to reassure her that it wasn't for sure happening somewhere. Jake was a nice guy, but he was way too charming for his own good…not to mention kind of oblivious.

"You want to spend the night?" I offered. "I could sleep on the chair."

Imogen perked up, obviously going to accept my peace offering. "You're the best-est! And in the morning we can go get breakfast and you can tell me all about what happened with Maya!"

"Sounds like an awesome morning," I nodded while she crawled back into my bed. I washed my face and quickly brushed my teeth before grabbing a quilt and leaning the chair back into recline mode. "Goodnight," I whispered into the darkness.

"Don't let the chair-bugs bite," Imogen promptly responded.

And when my eyes closed, I was back at the tree house, reliving every second of the most awesome night. I had to commit every detail to memory if I was going to do it any justice tomorrow over breakfast.


End file.
